Three Thousand Cavalrymen Storm Her Wedding, Yet She Asks, “Who Are You?”

Historical romance, no transmigration, no golden finger, missed chances, regretful husband seeks his wife back, insecure hero x radiant heroine, palace intrigue and political schemes

At seventeen, Shen Yan accepted an umbrella in Qingluo Town, and with it, a lifelong misfortune.

Jiang Zhi, a merchant’s daughter, pressed the umbrella into his hands, her apricot-shaped eyes curving like a crescent moon. “Scholar, don’t let your books get soaked.” He clutched the “Jiang” embroidered on its handle from the spring equinox to the winter solstice, unable to return it. Not because he couldn’t, but because once he did, he’d have no excuse to see her again.

Ten years later, he was made a marquis and appointed chancellor. The first thing he did was charge back to the capital to snatch her from her wedding. He knelt on one knee before the bridal sedan, three thousand cavalry silent as stone tablets behind him. The curtain lifted, and Jiang Zhi’s phoenix crown dazzled his eyes. “My lord, have we met before?”

They had. Oh, how they had.

The night she was exiled to the northern frontier, he snapped his brush in the examination hall, ink splattering across his face like tears. For the three years she was abused in the laundry house, he was in the military camp next door, listening through a single wall, holding back, counting the days until she remembered.

But she couldn’t remember.

Worse still, someone didn’t want her to.

The “calming tea” she drank every day was prepared by Second Prince Xiao Jue himself. The scar on her wrist wasn’t self-inflicted. Someone had feared she might remember something. And in a hidden compartment in Xiao Jue’s study was a locked portrait: fifteen-year-old Jiang Zhi, standing beneath a peach tree with a radiant smile. The inscription was in Shen Yan’s handwriting, but the date was from a year when he had supposedly “never set foot in the capital.”

Who was impersonating him? Who was erasing her memories?